How the women of Poland pulled off their massive nationwide protest

The first call went out in Wroclaw, western Poland. It was Sunday, September 25 and about 3000 people had gathered to demonstrate against a bill that proposed, indiscriminately, to ban abortion across the European country.

Good-intentioned as the small protest was, organiser Marta Lempart decided something more had to be done. Poland needed to strike, as Icelanders had done four decades earlier, and, there and then, Lempart proposed Monday, October 3 as a day for national action, when women would ignore work and instead stand in solidarity against the government.

A Black Monday Facebook group swiftly followed. Within a day, it had 60,000 followers. By Friday, its ranks numbered half a million. 20 coordinators across the country made connections with 1000 local organisers, who began to plot.

"It happened very fast," Lempart, speaking from Wroclaw, tells Daily Life. "This is the Polish nature, once we start it is very hard to stop us. That is the power that has awoken."

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"I want all governments to be scared of women," says Marta Lempart, Polish women's rights campaigner and lead of its Black Monday strikes.Credit:Facebook

How they pulled it off

The 37-year-old has been protesting against Poland's radical Law and Justice party (PiS) since it came into power last October, rallying under the banner of the Committee for the Defence of Democracy. But this was different. Black Monday was about all women, first and foremost, with political backgrounds and allegiances secondary to the cause.

"What was very, very important for us was that it was a no logo protest, it came from many different organisations and we were organising it as one. That's why the formula worked on a national level," says Lempart.

She devised a questionnaire to help link local organisers who were then encouraged to "do things their way" and protest without the pressure of a rigid structure. Her 12-paragraph demonstrator guide gave straightforward advice to 250 committee co-ordinators, many of whom had never planned political action before.

"Keep your formal ID on you. Remember to open the gathering and close it loudly so the police can hear you, that is how they protect you. Remember they are your friends, they are usually right," included the tips. "Don't be late, meet 1.5 hours before the event. Prepare a box with scissors, glue, paper, batteries. In this box is one thing that [will save you]."

Polish women shout slogans during a demonstration during the nationwide strike. Credit:AP

Well aware that it is as easy to block online messaging as it is to set up social media groups, Lempart's team included 20 social tech experts who sprung into action, volunteering their services with the only goal of not allowing dissenters to stymie social media channels and thus the far-reaching call to action. A single pornographic image in a Facebook comment, for example, could lead to the entire page being blocked.

"Our social media administrators worked 24/7. Without them, we would be gone in a day, because there was so much hate," says Lempart. "They kept things in control and in place."

A sea of umbrellas on Black Monday in downtown Castle Square, Warsaw. 90 per cent of strikers were from cities of populations of less than 50,000. Credit:AP

On D-day, 200,000 demonstrators took to the streets in 200 Polish cities. The campaign's spiritual heart, Wroclaw, saw 20,000 people, mostly women, on the streets, a turnout judged by the police as the largest in the country. But dispersal of the message was key: 90 per cent of protests were in cities with populations of less than 50,000.

Those who were unable to leave professional duties, such as hospital staff, wore black or black ribbons. Large companies and small businesses across the country closed their doors in support of striking employees.

"I was afraid that the private companies would be against us because this is a trouble for them," says Lempart. "But, actually, they closed in a gesture of solidarity. They gave women a day off, without any formalities. That's amazing."

With headlines around the world focused on the country and its women, their efforts paid off. By Wednesday, the PiS appeared to be backing down and signalled it would abandon the bill, while Lempart, who laughs at becoming a professional protester, celebrated the work of a new generation of empowered Polish women and men.

"I did not expect this result, but I was hoping. For me, it has become a routine, but watching women who have never done it before and made such great protests … it has been so nice."

The Polish way

Poland has to its advantage a long and deeply ingrained history of protest. Taking on martial law between 1981 and 1983, Wroclaw's residents gained a reputation fearsome enough to rattle even the communist military, says Lempart.

With a teachers' rally on Monday and further women's rights protests in the pipeline, groups across the spectrum in Poland are again rising.

Australia might not have a period of military rule to rally against, but Sarah Maddison, Associate Professor of Politics at the University of Melbourne, says she has no doubt that it could mimic Black Monday's swift and successful sweep to victory were Australians faced with such draconian potential legislation. Whether the government would U-turn, PiS fashion, is another question.

While Australia has a strong and innovative record of fighting for women's rights, Maddison, who is chair of GetUp! campaigning group, says attitudes and responses to social protest shifted under prime minister John Howard.

"Governments are more likely to dig in, often we see them double down on their policy," she explains. "It is sadly seen as political weakness for a government to engage with protest."

Last week's "wonderful outcome" in Poland, says Maddison, was unusual in both the leadership's response and its speed of reaction.

"I'm sure they feel quite rightly proud," she says of campaigners.

The fight is not over

For their part, the fight is only just beginning. A second national protest is planned for October 24, the anniversary of Iceland's original 1975 "Day Off". Taking a lead from a striking tram driver in Gdansk who stopped her train and announced "This tram is not going any further," Polish women have a new motto: This government is not going any further.

"The abortion law is overthrown, but the leaders haven't learnt anything," says Lempart, whose roles as the president of a construction company, lawyer and advocate for disability have taken a temporary backseat. Sleep, similarly, is near-absent, she admits.

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"They still think they can decide about women's rights. They will not decide something about us without us. It's not going to happen.

"I'm not happy about having to protest about such simple things, but I am happy that maybe this government will be overthrown by women. And maybe the next. And the next. I want all governments to be scared of women."